


The Throne is Cold Without You

by King of Kirkwall (Archangel_Venom)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Aveline is also a bro, Hawke is an idiot, He's always an idiot, How do you adult - featuring Hawke, I wonder where she got that from?, M/M, Nothing ever changes, Orana is a snarky bae, Sarcastic!Hawke - Freeform, The snark is real, Varric is a bro, Warden Carver Hawke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:25:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7262323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel_Venom/pseuds/King%20of%20Kirkwall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heroes in Thedas get titles. Queen, Viscount, Inquisitor... they all mean something to someone. Hawke means something to Fenris most of all.</p><p>Hawke leaves Kirkwall soon after the defeat of Meredith, but doesn't take his lover with him. Fenris is not happy with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There's The Answer, If You're Clever

\------ (9:37 DRAGON)

"I told you everything I know, Fenris, you need to calm down-"

Varric's lips snapped shut as the marks on the elf's skin began to glow. Fenris was livid, the most livid he’d seen to date. "He must have told you and I will not be lied to. Where. Is. Hawke."

He should have known it would come to this, but he had been hoping for something less hostile after he'd sent the Champion's lover an account of the man's safety. That was asking too much, he supposed. Samandriel had left so suddenly and Fenris had been the one to discover the Estate missing. "Hey, grumpy, I get it, you're upset. We can talk this out, okay? You know how Hawke is-"

"Dwarf. Where is he." Varric let out an apologetic sigh as he was interrupted. Fenris was all but crumbling at the sound, fingers falling from the dwarf's shoulders. "I am... sorry. I'm sure you would tell me if you could. I just..." The elf's voice cracked miserably before he pressed his palm into his flustered cheek. "... I need him."

“And he needs you.” Varric was careful as he drew Bianca, laying his crossbow on the table as a peace offering. Fenris relaxed a bit, stepping back and crossing his arms. He didn’t offer the same courtesy. "He asked me to keep it a secret. He told me specifically, 'Varric, don't go spinning stories again. You'll kick Fen into a fuss and I need him to be sober.'" His Hawke impression had earned a smirk. Varric offered a small smile before he continued, "He told me that he couldn't lose you, that you'd tear Thedas apart and end up dead if you had any leads. He can't take that long. Don't worry!"

Fenris was gripping the table now. His shoulders shook; Varric was silent as he waited for the elf to compose. "I'd give anything to wake up beside him, and yet he runs. If I lose him..." The elf shook his head before letting his shoulders slump. "I..." Words once again caught in his throat.

Varric took a seat, lips pursed as he tried to come up with comforting words. "He loves you, Fenris." Fenris was mostly non responsive - he had, however, taken a seat. Progress. "He’ll come back when he can." A low chuckle left him, easing some of his tension. "I promise you'll be the first to know if he sends word."

Fenris was a mess, really. Varric wasn't going to be the one to say it, but the elf was worse for wear in more than one way. "Hey, Fen..." Varric reached his hand out before setting it on his lap, lips twisted in thought. "Take a break. I'll focus on Hawke for now; you settle down and make my friend a home he can return to."

"Varric-"

"Just seven days is all I ask. Clean up the Estate for a change?"

Fenris smiled with relief for what had to be the first time since Hawke had left, getting to a stand and tugging at the red ribbon on his wrist. "You know where he’s going, I imagine?”

Varric reached out for the second time, once again rescinding. He knew, and he knew he should tell him. "I know he’s going to cry when he sees you’ve moved into the place. I’d put my bets on that." He settled for deflection, smiling broadly 

\------ (9:38 DRAGON)

They exchanged letters erratically the first year. Templars were hunting for Hawke harder than they had hunted for _any_ apostate since Varric had been in Kirkwall and caution had to be exerted. They wanted him for something urgently; the dwarf couldn’t be bothered to find out why. Ravens made their way to the Hanged Man under names Varric struggled to understand, but it mattered little. Hawke’s handwriting was discernable enough. Letters all ended with detailed pleas to keep an eye on Fenris, but to keep his location hidden in fear his lover would try to find him.

“Yes… he does a lot of that. Lots of pleading.”

It was a shame, really. Fenris was getting restless with the waiting. It was only a matter of time before he left Kirkwall to follow the first whisper of Hawke’s name he heard. Varric pressed his tongue into his cheek in frustration. “He wants you alive, Fenris. You can’t blame the man for that.”

The elf shrugged, however, forest green eyes locked on the fireplace as he chugged back another bottle. “I will do lots of blaming when I see him again.” His voice was soft. Varric felt a pang in his chest as he got to a stand, once again ripping the latter half of the letter and leaving it on the table. Fenris eyed the scrap of parchment, visibly deflating. “...Thank you, Varric.” 

“Sure thing, Sunshine.” Varric responded quickly, turning towards the exit with a wary smile. “I’ve got some business to wrap up with Rivaini, but I’ll catch up when I can.” Fenris raised his bottle in acknowledgement.

\------ (9:39 DRAGON)

Hawke had sent one letter to the dwarf the next year. It was almost eerie that Fenris returned to Kirkwall for the first time in months on that night, but maybe it wasn’t, given the nature of the letter.

_Thanks for keeping Fenris safe; Maker knows I don't deserve him now. No more letters. Not safe. Don't look for me, Varric.  
Give Fen a big Happy Anniversary for me. And uh, tell him I love him? Maker. What have I done to him?_

It made sense to see the elf return on the night of his anniversary with the mage. Unfortunately showing it to Fenris did little to help; the man sent himself into a tailspin thinking that Hawke had slept with Anders. Again. "Fenris, please." The dwarf passed a cup of wine down towards the elf. Fenris eyed the Hanged Man Ale like it was garbage before downing it in one sip. "Hawke wouldn't do that. You know how he reacted to Justice; you think he'd want to elope with a brooding abomination who blew up the Chantry?"

"...He does have a thing for brooding."

Varric laughed, leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet onto the table. "Glad to hear the sense of humor in you! I was starting to miss it." Fenris' smile was weak - the poor thing was exhausted but relentless in his search. It was clear he missed companionship, spoiled by the incessant attention of Hawke. “This is a good thing! He's making progress with… whatever he's doing. I trust the estate is well taken care of?” Fenris flushed a deep red. Varric’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Good! I know Sammy’s viscount status was keeping your estate, well, yours, but that isn’t going to hold if he doesn’t come back.” 

Fenris’ gaze hardened as he glared at the dwarf, lip twitching in distaste before he sank his gaze into his cup and took another drink. “He will.”

The dwarf had never wanted more than to bring his friend back home. He didn’t get a location on this letter, though, and the promise of not receiving another was an unnerving one. “Sure he will! He will probably lose viscount status either way, though. We both know he’d love to see you at _home_.”

“I… used to travel alone. This shouldn’t be so perturbing.” His fingers flitted over the handle of the mug before he extended his arm for another pour. “Seven years is a long time to be spoiled, I suppose.”

Seven years with and two without. Samandriel was untraceable, gone months on months with minimal clues to his whereabouts. The letter had been the only sign of life in well over 10 months now. With all the talk about Grey Warden matters, the belief that Hawke had fallen under Anders’ wiles wasn’t too far-fetched. The anxiety was rapidly building. “In all seriousness, elf, you’re worrying about nothing. He isn’t going to sleep around - you don’t, do you?”

“ _He_ has the history of it."

Varric chuckled, pouring the both of them another glass and shooting it the elf's way. "Isabella and he were never going to be more than a one time thing. It was a trust thing, I think." The dark colored liquid sloshed inside the cup. Varric didn't even want to drink it. "Maker only knows why he was flirting with Tallis. I think he just likes to push your buttons." He set his glass aside, stifling a laugh as the elf in front of him leaned forward for said glass of wine before reaching for the bottle and putting it to his lips. "Anders... had been a distraction from you." When Fenris perked up, the bowman rolled his eyes. "Please. He was gooey for you from the moment you walked down those steps in the Alienage. Trust me, I'm the one he chose to confide in."

"So sleeping with Anders...?"

"Rebound from a bad break up, if you will."

Fenris arched a brow. They hadn't had anything. They hadn't slept together and Fenris hadn't claimed the blood red patch of cloth as his own until... "Hadriana." His lip twitched in contempt as he thought about the dead woman, eyes drifting to the side before he focused on the elf once more. "He'd slept with Anders after Hadriana."

"And you'd wanted to do it first. You didn't." Fenris flushed at the interjection. "Oh, come on, grumpy. We all knew it. When you bounced, Hawke was frustrated."

The elf wrung his wrists as he downed another drink. "He rejected the abomination and I could think of nothing else." 

“Pretty sure you were lovestruck long before that, Fenris.”

Those nights were clear to him. Anders being rejected had opened up the now-Champion to even naughtier thoughts than before. Bella had loved to tease him about her night with the blond… Anders had been insufferable about it. While Isabela had spared no expense, Anders’ melancholy silence about the subject had left him wanting. Was Hawke the dominant type? Was he really that good in bed that he could earn the trust of an apostate, fuck him, dump him, and still keep him as a pet errand runner? More importantly… Did he like to bite or squeeze or scratch or did he like to squirm and cry out to the Maker? Of course, Fenris knew all those answers. He’d gotten absurdly wasted and celebrated the anniversary of his escape, and gave up keeping his temptations at bay soon after that. There was a different kind of anniversary to celebrate now. And he was _painfully_ alone.

Fenris bit his lip as he came to a stand, a mixture of shame and anger stretched over his face. "I must retire for the night and... reflect. We'll be in touch."

"Sure thing, cupcake. And, uh, Happy Anniversary, too."

Fenris waved the bottle in his hands before exiting the pub, shoulder harshly brushing against the entryway on his way out.


	2. Oh, If Life Were Made Of Moments...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello this is definitely porn goodbye

\------ (9:40 DRAGON)

Two years passed like no time at all. The mage’s claims of trying to prevent an Exalted March on Kirkwall were understandable; the dwarf wanted to be upset that his friend revealed that he wasn’t coming home yet at the last possible second but just couldn’t be. He was upset that Samandriel was still dark. Hearing news of his mage best friend from some random street urchin he proceeded to forget about was less than promising. A brief, “The Champion sends his regards, but is not ready to return,” was just _not enough_. He couldn’t trust the strange words of a strange child. How would he know anything about Sammy, anyways?

It felt like things were starting to come together despite that. Aveline and Fenris had even managed to get along, despite her clear distaste for the way the elf went about things. Bella had stopped by The Hanged Man for a short while, promising the group that she’d keep her eyes and ears open for Hawke and send him home. 

It figures, of course, that not but a week after deciding that his dear friend must have passed - and that he'd made peace with it - the blond mage had stumbled into the Hanged Man and headed straight for the bar.

Varric had looked once, twice, thrice, a laugh bubbling at his lips as he called the name.

"Samandriel!"

Piercing teal eyes widened in shock before immediately relaxing, arms outstretched as he lifted his dwarf friend from the ground and clung tight. “Varric, you _bastard_.” 

They'd talked the night through in the Hanged Man and swapped stories, both men slowly losing their tension and falling back into old times until they were far too drunk to get themselves home. Still they insisted, Varric barking about saving the world twice now and Hawke conceding he may have fucked it once or twice.

“You never did tell me why you came to town, Hawke. Maker knows it’s been too long!”

The blond chuckled, wobbling in his step as he braced against his staff and continued forward. “Needed to talk to Fen, actually.” The look the archer gave him spoke volumes. Hawke shrunk into himself. “Gonna… be gone a while longer. Needed… to see ‘im.” After a pause, the blond perked, pointing at his dwarf friend. “And you, of course. Needed some liquid courage first.” They shared a laugh, laughter escalating until they were just about howling through Hightown.

"...Hawke?"

The familiar voice of an elf almost immediately broke a giggling mage out of his stupor. The dwarf promptly had a sense to shuffle off as a bitter elf effortlessly brought a glowing hand to the Champion's neck. "Varric? Lil... Lil help?"

"Nope nope nope. N-O." Varric waved his hand in dismissal as he turned the corner. 

Hawke was deliriously drunk, but the stupid smile spread across his face as his arms reached out to touch his lover. Fenris' grip tightened. Hawke scrambled as he was lifted into the air, fingers curling over the metal of Fenris' armor before Mind Blasting. The elf stumbled, but that was enough for the blond to get his bearings and secure his staff. "Fenris, that isn't ... how you greet people in Kirkwall. It's rude."

"I..." Fenris exhaled before drawing his sword, the weight of it feeling wrong as he looked into the eyes of the man he loved. "Waited. For so long. You can't be Hawke." His eyes narrowed as he steeled his resolve. Samandriel could have sworn he saw a glimmer to those green eyes, but was too drunk to comment. "Hawke would have come for me first."

Fenris studied Hawke's expression carefully. Shock etched across it first, then realization slowly ebbed like waves before the mage broke into tears on the streets of Kirkwall. "I'm sorry." The elf took another step, rolling his shoulders back. "I was... Fen, I needed something to be able to face you and-" His fingers scrawled across the pavement. "I mean, of course Varric was there but I hadn't even thought about anything but you-" The blade clamored to the ground. Hawke flinched at the sound. "I wasn't strong enough."

The elf's lip twitched again, fingers curling into the hilt of his sword as he picked it up. "You promised you wouldn't scare me like that."

The blond bit his lip to hold back the sob, resorting to humor as a defense mechanism. "I promised not to go to _jail_. Gotcha on technicality, love." As the understanding dawned slowly on the elf, Hawke braced himself for this to be the very last time he saw his elf, his love, his heart, for a very long time. "You're... just as I remembered, really. After all these years... You're even wearing that red ribbon." Fenris' lips pulled taut as he tugged on it. The anger across the elf's face was tangible. "I missed you, Fenris."

Lips crushed together so hard that the mage reeled, the blond scrambling for grip as darker hands caged him against the wall. Then, suddenly, the elf pulled away, lyrium markings glowing in his anger. “Three years.” Dark fingers curled against the brick wall as he pressed their foreheads together. "I did everything I could to forget... you. Us." The pain his elf felt was clear. Hawke all but sobbed as he parted his lips and pressed forward for more affection. "You are all I can ever see."

"The blood magic must have worked, then-"

"Not now. Please." Fenris' voice broke as his hands roamed to feel, to accept that this was really his human. Hawke nodded fervently as he surged forward, kisses becoming bolder as they fumbled through the street and up the stairs. Fenris lost control on the way up, pinning his lover to the wall with a possessive growl and baring his teeth on the mage's skin. "It's too far. ... Here. Right here."

Hawke's breath hitched at the idea, dazed eyes glancing at the houses before shaking his head. "We... can't."

"We can." Fenris rolled his hips and relished the sound it made, biting at his lover's bottom lip as his hands fumbled with Hawke's belt. 

"I want it soft. Slow. I want... to see you."

It was definitely the alcohol talking, but Fenris nearly choked in shock as he eyed the mage. Hawke was stumbling like an idiot up the last flight of stairs, leaning against his elf and whining like a minx. "You.. haven't changed, either." Fenris was much more careful with his mage as he led the Champion up the stairs, fishing keys out of his pocket as Hawke clung to his side. "Samandriel."

The mage's name pressed from the warrior's lips like a prayer; Hawke pushed back another onset of tears as he shoved into the familiar estate and shouldered the front door shut. "Fenris." He was trying his hardest to pour all his emotion into one word, fingers grasping for hooks to shed off his lover's armor. Their lips crashed again, clumsy and drunk as the white haired elf pulled them into the mansion. "Fenris." The mage continued to speak his lover's name at every breath, voice cracking as the outer armor was shed. The elf was fervently returning the favor, tugging at far too expensive cloth to remove it.

Hawke stopped, suddenly, and Fenris slowed in his ministrations until they came to a complete halt by the fireplace. "...Hawke?" The blond was almost stunned by the beauty of his old estate, just the same as he'd left it those years ago. 

“Did you…”

“Cleaned it up a bit, yes.”

A soft noise left Samandriel’s lips as he took in the room around him. “Fen…” His voice trailed, seafoam eyes burning into forest green as he pressed his arms to the elf’s (armored) chest and shoved him towards the bedroom. The white haired elf glanced quickly behind him as they started up the set of stairs, fingers curling on the railing as they stumbled up the steps. There was another brief pause as Hawke surveyed the room. The bed was worn, sheets fumbled with half-heartedly and definitely used. A few pairs of paints were strewn about the ground. “Is someone-?” The blond paused, fingers curling around strong arms. The elf slowed to a stop. Samandriel jerked forward a bit, clearly alarmed. “Why is someone…”

"I... took the liberty of putting my things in your room. I figured someone had to make use of this place. Wouldn't be right if I let it fester.”

Another beat passed before the mage was thrusting his entire weight on the elf, causing the man to stumble to adjust. "Thank... the Maker for you." He was still slurring his words. He was still drunk, too drunk to fool around with tonight. _Fuck_. "I... don't know what I'd do without you. Wouldn't want to imagine that." The elf was cautious as his fingers danced on his lover's midback, the human shuffling back and forth despite the firm grip. "...I'm tired." 

Fenris licked at his bottom lip before conceding with a soft, “and drunk,” helping the mage stumble his way into the bedroom. Hawke sucked in a breath at the familiar atmosphere before leaning into his lover again. 

"No, I'll... Take the lounge. This isn't-"

"Hawke." The elf let out a sigh as he tugged the taller man closer, thumbs rubbing circles on the man's hand. "Sleep."

There were no more words exchanged after that. Samandriel stumbled out of the last of his clothes and started to shake when the elf he'd needed for so long handed him his old robe like it was nothing. Fenris had only smiled at him and turned to bed, settling on his black under armor. The elf stiffened as the blond tumbled into bed. Hawke knew even in his drunken stupor that there was something different about that, and almost broke into tears upon realizing he couldn't remember. 

\---

“You didn't tell me he was in town.”

Fenris leaned against the wall as Aveline spoke, eyes hard and trained on the sleeping form on the bed. “I… encountered him last night.” 

“Oh? And you slept with him already?”

The glares exchanged could melt iron. “Things got heated, nothing more. It's none of your concern.”

“I spend years getting the Templars off Sam’s back and it _isn't my concern?!_ ”

The elf snorted at her. “If you'd done a better job, he wouldn't have left in the first place.”

“The nerve of you! I should be throwing him in a cell for questioning!”

“At the consequence of my blade, Aveline.”

"Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!"

Samandriel's voice turned the both of them towards the sound, eyebrows raised in question - and then anger - as they watched the blond stumble his way towards the fireplace in the room. "That's not funny, Hawke." Aveline spoke first. The Champion only scoffed in response.

"Nothing is funny to you, Ave." Guilt flashed across the mage's face before he waved his hand and lit the fire in the pit in front of him. "Can you get Varric for me, Aveline? He'll need some help waking after last night. I'll make breakfast while I'm at it, too.”

"What? Are you-"

Sam gave her a look, silencing the redhead. She nodded slowly, and Fenris slowly closed the door behind the woman and turned towards the Champion. "Fen, I..." His voice caught in his throat, but the elf was patient - albeit distant. The warrior had slept within inches of him last night but was now feet away. Hawke hated it. "I'm sorry."

"Three years, Hawke."

The blond flinched in agreement. "I'm... surprised to see you here." He swept his hand around the space that the elf now occupied. "I thought you'd give up on me. I kind of... wanted you to." Fenris huffed, but was otherwise silent. "You couldn't have found me. You were the only thing that I needed to be safe." The elf clenched his jaw, but still kept his mouth shut. Hawke made his way over to the bed and took a seat on it, tensing when he found the elf beside him shifted away. "It was too dangerous, Fen. Those Templars would stop at nothing to see the end of me. You and I both know you wouldn't have let it go." The mage paused and stared at his hands. "Keeping you in the dark was the only guarantee that we both were safe."

"Varric knew."

"Varric also knows not to find me when I say _don't look for me_ , Fenris. Someone needed an update so they could discern whether or not I was... dead." Hawke eyed the shorter man carefully as the other got to a stand, maneuvering right into the mage's space. He couldn't stare into that anger, but when he turned away the elf grabbed his chin firmly and forced their gaze. The mage swallowed. "I know, okay? I didn't expect to come home to the man I fell in love with. I had given that up. I had to, to keep you alive. I still regret it. I never stopped regretting it."

When Fenris advanced again, Hawke raised an eyebrow and pressed his hands forward, stopping the advance. "Hey, Fen. No. We should talk about this."

"No more talking. I heard the only thing I needed to know."

The mage chuckled nervously, hand dancing upwards. "What did you need to know?"

"That you're sorry." The words crumbled Hawke's resolve as he made a noise of distress, pulling his elf forward and swinging his arms around the warrior's neck. Fenris responded in fervor, wasting no time in climbing onto the bed with the man. "It better be worth the wait, mage."

The mage was short of breath already as the man above him worked him like a charm. "Oh..." A content sigh left the blond's lips as he arched into the touch. "Fen." The elf grunted in response, lips colliding in a desire to keep connected. Hawke responded cheerfully, hands brushing up and down his lover's side and smirking at the shudder it elicited. "I missed you."

"You missed teasing me, as is the norm." Fenris stifled his laugh as the fingers brushed past his side's again before growling in distaste and catching the man's hands. "No." Hawke smirked at the elf as his hands were brought above him. He opened his mouth to speak only to be met with another resounding "no", the elf biting at the mage's bottom lip as punishment. "You stay quiet. Your neck is next if I hear your mouth." 

"Are you sure about tha- ah!"

Fenris immediately delivered on his promise, baring his teeth at his lover before sinking his teeth into the unmarked skin. "Hm." The elf liked control, and he loved that his mage was willing to relinquish that to him. He loved this man. He... loved this man. The destroyed look in Hawke's eyes proved a similar thought process, the blond stifling his noise by lurching forward and sinking his own teeth into Fenris' shoulder. His bite was much gentler, though strengthened as the shorter man snaked a hand down below. Fenris was enjoying the squirming. Hawke didn't want to give his lover the satisfaction but couldn't help himself through the sensitivity. 

"Gentle... Maker, be gentle." The Champion breathed out the words as his forehead pressed into Fenris' shoulder. "I haven't... I'm rusty. Please."

His heart was swelling with pride as he stared down at his mess of a mage. "You'll get used to it." As if to emphasize, the elf thumbed at the pants of his under armor, tugging them downwards and relishing the way his mage cooed. "Come." Hawke was quick react, moaning loudly as he tugged the under armor down and pressed his lips to the elf's length. Fenris sucked in a breath as he slipped his hand through the mage's hair, hips thrusting in pleasure. Hawke choked in response, fingers curling desperately into lyrium-embedded skin. "... Sorry." 

"Gentle!"

"Apologies, my love." Hawke choked again, this time at the gravity of his lover's words. Fenris took this as a negative, rubbing at his human's ear as he pulled himself away. The blond whimpered at him - Fenris abandoned the idea of being sucked off in favor of paying attention to the man in front of him. He was careful and gentle, tugging at the strings of the robe and slowly removing the outfit from the mage.

"Please." 

It was a broken plea, Hawke trying to speed up the process of de-robing. "Gentle, you said." Still, the fact that the man needed him so desperately was exciting. The blond groaned in frustration. Fenris relented, exposing the human and pressing their bodies together. Hawke sucked in a breath as the elf's excitement caused the lyrium to glow, a hum that was lighting his skin on fire. "Relax."

Hawke swung an arm around his lover's neck, eyes wide as he drank in a scene he hadn't had for far too long. He pressed a sloppy kiss on the elf's lips as Fenris moved slowly. When they parted for air, the shorter man pressed his tattooed fingers past the mage's lips. Hawke's eyes widened in confusion as the gears turned in his head; his lips opened readily to suck on the elf's fingers. A tanned hand was brought downwards as he did so, tentatively running his fingers across the base of his lover's cock. Fenris shoved his free hand into the headboard at the sensation, ignoring the definite cracking sound it made under the pressure and arching much like a cat in pleasure. " _Hawke_." 

The word was all he needed; Hawke released the elf's fingers with an audible 'pop'. The blond tugged at Fenris' top as the white haired male shifted downwards. There was a quick shuffle as the elf removed his top, tossing it aside and focusing on the task at hand. The first finger was the hardest - Samandriel put forth a lot of resistance at an intrusion he'd forgotten about after all this time. "I guess I don't have to worry about you sleeping around." His voice was low, lidded with lust as he circled patterns into the mage's thigh with his free hand. 

The Champion was less than thrilled at the statement, squirming against steady hands. "Not sexy, Fenris."

The elf grumbled under his breath before proceeding with another finger. Hawke gasped out, fingers curling into the sheets. Fenris hummed softly, gently prying his lover's arm from the sheets and settling it on his neck. "I need you." The third intrusion into the mage brought out a heart-wrenching cry, but Samandriel adapted quickly and thrust into those fingers with a much more satisfied - and strangled - moan. The elf lost it at that, stroking his cock a couple of times before removing his fingers and angling his hips. "Hawke-"

"Please, Fenris. Andraste's arse you take so lo-" The elf was much less gentle than he should have been, Hawke's banter forcing his hand. "Fuck!" Said mage almost immediately recoiled. Fenris tilted his head curiously. "I take it back. Go back to gentle - I take it back." 

"No."

"Wha-" Samandriel had no more room for word exchange, the mage tugging for the pillow behind his head and gnawing into it as the elf pounded into his lover. The pain subsided quickly, however. Fenris slowed his pace for a few thrusts, gently reaching out to the mage's face. Hawke was absolutely _wrecked_ and the warrior groaned in pleasure. "Fen..." The warrior surged forward for another kiss, open-mouthed and heavy and _wanting_. Hawke’s eyes were wide as the elf slinked closer.

Fenris slowed his pace to a methodical one and Hawke was mewling in pleasure. Tattooed hands shoved Hawke’s pillow aside to press their lips together. It didn't take very long for either of them to finish; Hawke lost himself as soon as his lover reached for his dick and Fenris followed at the sound of bliss his mage emitted. Fenris arched as he rest his forehead on Sam's shoulder, panting to catch his breath and finding the Champion doing the same.

"... Morning?"

The mage's voice was soft, breathless. The thoroughly fucked tone of voice was something the elf hadn't even realized he'd been missing. "Do not think this conversation is over." Despite the serious tone, Fenris had lifted his head to cup his human's face and was consequently losing himself in those eyes. 

"Of course not. Just had to take the merchandise for a good ol' test run first?"

Hawke's lips were upturned into a smirk as he stole a quick kiss, rolling out from under the elf and searching for his armor. Panic rose in Fenris' chest before he knew it. "Don't-"

"Relax, Fen. It's this or the robe and we both know that thing does no good as clothing." The statement seemed to soothe the elf. "I'm not leaving! Not without taking you with me. Have to re-establish who my master is, after all."

The former slave decided to let that joke go on the premise of missing his lover; that didn't stop him from grumbling in distaste as they walked out the bedroom door. The mage's eyes were immediately drawn to the center of the room. Varric was relaxed on a lounge chair with a book in his hand, and Aveline was pacing the length of it. "Morning?" The older Hawke sibling tried to force a smile, echoing his earlier sentiment.

"Maker's breath, could you keep it down?" The woman’s face was a brilliant red as he pointed at the two. "My first mental image of you in years and it had to be that."

"Relax, princess. I told you not to go upstairs - what did you expect from these two? Honestly..." Varric stretched his limbs, setting his book aside and keeping his eye on the two men. "Not even ashamed! Told you."

Fenris' hand twitched at his side. "What would there be to be ashamed of?"

"Nothing, nothing!" Varric chuckled, but the glare Aveline was sending to everyone in the room proved otherwise. "Just a little on the louder end. I suppose you were used to doing that sort of stuff in an empty mansion before, though!" It was at that point that the elf finally flushed, turning his face towards the floor. "Nothing to be ashamed of. Just something to... keep in mind."

"You always did say I had a big mouth, sister."

"I didn't mean-" Aveline spluttered before rolling back her shoulders. "You mentioned breakfast?”

\---

Fenris was rough as he grabbed for his lover's arm, green eyes wild with lust as he pulled the both of them out of the room. “Oh, Maker… Don't do what I think you're-”

But the woman’s voice faded as the elf dragged his mage back towards the room. “I didn't even get to finish breakfast!” Samandriel mocked disappointment as he followed easily. “Whatever shall I do? I'll starve.”

“If you must swallow something, I have an idea.”

“Fenris…?” The door shut and Fenris all but threw the taller man up the stairs and towards the bed. “Hey, woah, buttercup, what's going on with you?”

Fenris paused, furrowing his brows at the mage. “Once did not satisfy me.” 

His words were clear, as if he couldn't for any reason understand why it couldn't be understood. Hawke was quickly filling into a brilliant shade of red. “Yeah, okay tiger. But we were having a nice catch-up breakfast in there! What in Thedas could have inspired this?”

As if to prove a point, Fenris stalked closer, the action causing Hawke to stumble backwards towards the bed until he fell onto it. The elf smirked, one hand smoothly finding it's way to the underside of the blond's thigh and hoisting it upwards. Hawke stifled a noise as he was manhandled. “You are a temptation I cannot resist.” Hawke was all but throwing his armor off himself after that, brilliant blue eyes clashing with a gentle forest green as the elf watched the show.

Hawke distinctly remembered being good at putting on shows for his lover, but three years do a lot to one's self-confidence. “Little help, lover boy? These robes don't unclasp themselves.” 

“As you wish, Hawke.”

And Fenris was tearing at them; Samandriel jumped as the sound of cloth tearing echoed in the room. “I didn't mean-” Fenris hushed him with a bruising kiss, lyrium-embedded fingers humming with power. The mage immediately arched into the familiar touch, all but purring the elf's name as he shrugged out of the tattered remains of his robe. His elf was much faster than last time at pressing those fingers to the human’s lips. Hawke was also much faster at receiving them. 

The blond was so distracted by the fingers that were silencing him that he hadn’t even noticed Fenris dip out of eyesight between his legs. Without warning a tongue pressed into a tight ring of muscle. Hawke let out a sharp noise as he moved to close his legs; the warrior exhaled through his nose as his hand and shoulder held the man in place. Samandriel was just _writhing_ , the poor thing, arching backwards but being unable to shift away under Fenris’ strong grip. ”Maker, please…” 

With a low chuckle the elf relented, removing his hands from his lover’s mouth and brushing past his nether regions. His head reared back, eyes lidded with lust and focused entirely on Sam's lips. The mage let out another noise as he was teased; Fenris couldn’t help the smirk plastered across his face as his index knuckle moved past the man’s hole. The first finger was just as uncomfortable as last time. Samandriel braved the feeling while squirming his way up the bed, chuckling to himself when his elf cursed at him to sit still before climbing over the bed frame. Two fingers easily followed after the loss of the elf’s tongue and the mage hardly twitched in pain. “Hawke…” It was a dangerous tone of voice, that, but the noise only brought another round of soft laughter as the mage sought to control himself and failed. “ _Hawke_.”

Fenris grumbled as he situated both palms under his lover's thighs, removing himself from inside of the man. Lifting them over his shoulders had finally gathered the attention he needed. “Full of surprises today.” The blond was slightly more serious… which was the best he was going to get.

The elf settled his lover’s thighs on his shoulders before he pressed two fingers in, now, studying Hawke’s face as he adapted to the intrusion. There was definitely discomfort, but the Champion was quickly falling back into old habits. It wasn’t long before he was biting back breathy moans, head thrown back as the darker skinned man licked a stripe up his lover’s neck. “You are mine, mage.” Fenris hummed as he nibbled on his lover’s ear, eyes lidded but still focused on his human. Samandriel was writhing, pressing himself into the sheets as the elf once again pushed a third finger in. 

“Please, Fen, I-”

Just like that, it was gentle. Fenris was slow as he stretched his lover open this time, peppering lazy kisses down the mage's neck as the human called out in pleasure. “Please, love. Quiet.” Samandriel nodded softly, nails curling into the elf's back as he tugged on his bottom lip. “Slow, like I promised.” He'd been far too excited to deliver on slow the first time around… but now? He was going to have his lover begging for release.

Hawke let out a noise as his lover hit just the spot. Fenris smirked, shifting as he pushed a little farther. “Fen…” The elf removed his fingers, head tilting as he pressed their lips together and aligned his hips. There was a pause as they parted breaths. Sam’s eyes were wide as he was left to wait, brows furrowing before he reached upwards to play with the elf's hair. Fenris pressed his thumbs into the mage's hips as he pushed in. “Oh, fuck.” Sam was already tensing.

Fenris shifted forward, murmuring broken phrases in Tevene. The familiar phrase left his lover’s lips. “Festis bei umo canavarum.” The blond whimpered loudly in response, lips parted and once again hushed as Fenris closed the gap between their mouths and started a rhythm. It was painfully slow. So painfully slow. Hawke groaned loudly, back arching and lips parting. Fenris easily pushed his tongue past, hand slinking under the man’s back as he grabbed for the shoulder blade. His free hand was taken by the mage, fingers interlacing with the human. Samandriel’s grip was terrifyingly tight. “Relax, Hawke.” As if on command, the mage steadied his squirming and his breath. “Good.”

“Oh, yes, just patronize me for not being accustomed to a _very_ well-endowed elf.”

The warrior smirked, eyes ablaze as he locked gazes with his lover and buried himself to the hilt. Samandriel clenched onto the hand he was holding as a sound of shock left his lips. “Should I be worried you were accustomed to regular elves?”

He could stop this if he had to, but the breathy banter felt so familiar to him. “Can you imagine?” A chuckle rolled past his lips, quickly breaking into a moan as Fenris methodically rammed into his prostate. Sam scrambled for grip on something, anything. The elf was relentless, though. The steady rhythm of the man above him had Sam rambling in an attempt to speak and failing. Fenris was taunting him, gripping tightly to his shoulder and bringing him downward with every subsequent thrust upwards. “ _Fen_!” The gasp left his lips, body following the lewd movements his lover was guiding him towards. Conversation finally halted for a bit less than a minute. “Why would I want to partake… if I didn’t have you?” The elf’s pace slowed shortly after Hawke managed the words out, eyes widening as he studied the Champion. Hawke choked out whimpers as the elf stared at him, eyes focused on just… seeing the man beneath him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Fenris licked at his bottom lip before releasing his grip on his lover’s shoulder, raising it instead to the nape of the man’s neck and bringing their bodies flush. It wasn’t the best angle for penetration, the elf slowing to a stop as he forced Sam’s attention on him. “Venhedis, Hawke.” The venom in his tone curled around the Tevinter language. “I will find a way to shut you up if I have to.”

The blond shook his head vigorously, jaw already starting to go slack in pleasure as his arms wound up to gently place his hands atop the ones on his own neck. “...Sorry. Last sorry. Sorry.” Fenris rolled his eyes as Hawke reached for a kiss. “ _Festis bei umo canavarum_.” He repeated the phrase - slowly - as a smile broke across his face, admiring the way Fenris struggled to decide whether he found that really fucking hot or not. The elf must have decided the former, though, because he was slamming himself in and out of his lover within a few seconds. Hawke’s voice gave way to the pleasure. “Fe-n!” There was a light squeeze, the elf putting some pressure on the mage’s neck. Hawke’s voice died in this throat, voice cracking as his whimpers caught in his throat.

As it cracked, the elf whispered a gratuitous, “finally” towards no deity in particular and reached over to Hawke’s member. The poor man was starting to tear up in all his excitement, voice lost to pleasure as he breathed out cracked whimpers and arched into lyrium-enhanced touches. When Hawke finally caved to the sensations, Fenris followed right behind. It was sticky and messy and _perfect_ , at least for now. Hawke forced out a meager hum of approval as he curled his arms around one of the elf’s. It was calm for a while. It was nice for a while. “We should… bathe.” Fenris’ interjection was answered to by a quick shake of the head. “Hawke.”

“... Fine. Fine. I’ll draw a bath.”

Hawke’s movements were slow as he dragged his hand across Fenris’ chest, scouring every inch of skin before forcing himself out of bed. His eyes flashed with an unidentifiable emotion as he turned towards the door. 

By the time Fenris recognized it as agony, it was far too late. The mage had vanished.


	3. Even Now And Then a Bad One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know when you write something 600 times until you're satisfied until you realize you'll never be satisfied?  
> I don't usually upload things because of that but I figured I'd just do this one and accept mistakes I made because I can.
> 
> So, uh, yeah, enjoy!

“He’s gone.” Fenris felt the air leave his chest as he heaved the words, arm reaching out as he lurched forwards but kept the bile from leaving his throat. Aveline reached out her hand to touch him; Fenris immediately recoiled. “Do not touch me.” For a moment the red-head was pissed… but this was what she should have expected. Samandriel was the only person she’d ever seen get away with putting a hand on the elf. The guard-captain bowed her head respectfully as she backed away, respecting his space. Fenris’ lip twitched. “He got past you, Aveline?”

Her hands flitted nervously at her side, unsure of what to say or do. “I guess so, Fenris. Varric and I both.” His fierce gaze fell upon her. “Did he leave a note?” Despondently, the elf pointed to a crumpled piece of parchment on the side of the bed. She looked to him for permission and hurried to it when he nodded fervently.

_Fenris,_  
_I meant it when I said I was sorry. I wanted to stay. I want to stay. I cannot._  
_I know what you would do if I took you with me, and I can’t lose you. I want more than anything to tell you where I’m going, to have you find me… but I’m not going to, and that’s sort of what matters. People are going to come looking for me. Jail wasn’t pleasant and I did promise to stay out of it, didn’t I?_

_I will never stop missing you, but I will probably not survive. Please. Mourn me, move on. I love you and I always will. And, please, do make use of the Amell estate. You are my family and it's all yours. Build a family for me. Name a kid after Beth or Carver for me!_

_Hawke._

Her eyes softened as she laid the paper out flat. “Fenris-”

“Leave.” A desperate, choked out word. Aveline pursed her lips, turning towards the door without another word.

Hawke wasn’t wrong, though. Not but a week after his return (and disappearance), a strange force came marching in to find the Champion. Fenris’ note proved of little use and Seeker Cassandra turned on Varric. He was gone three days before Fenris grew tired of waiting. Aveline refused to entertain the thought of taking him on patrols, so the elf took his blade elsewhere.

\------ (9:41 Dragon)

Fenris returned from his lone adventures months later only to hear of the events that transpired. Word of an Inquisition was starting to spread throughout Orlais and Ferelden both… Varric was with them. It was the talk of the Free Marches; an elf, blessed by the will of Andraste to be an end to the madness.

Fenris had a bad feeling about it all. Something was going to go wrong. It always did. Shouldering his way into the estate, the elf made eye contact with Orana and made his way inside. “... You are… still here.”

The blonde woman raised a brow, a smile quirking her lips upwards as she motioned for a curtsey. “Fenris. Nice to see you. I’ll get to work on lunch immediately, if you’d like?” The warrior mumbled under his breath as she spoke to him, unlatching his gauntlets and walking right past her towards the master bedroom. Orana’s eyes softened. “There’s a stack of letters for you on the desk. I went through the trouble of sorting them for you by importance. All of Master Varric’s are on the top.”

Hearing the word _master_ still made Fenris nervous, even all these years later. Orana knew that, so held her tongue when referring to the fellow elf, but it would not stop her from calling others by their appropriate title. Fenris paused, head whipping around as if to comment on it before shaking his head and moving towards the desk. “Varric should have kept you at his estate, not sent you back here.” He rolled his shoulders, finding himself smiling just the same. “I wonder if he would buy you if I asked nicely.” 

“You continuously forget that I can’t be bought. I choose to be here, just like you do.” Fenris clicked his tongue as he sifted through the letters. “Varric is the one paying me in any case, but I’m sure you knew that.”

“I did not.”

The servant laughed, a cheerful noise that cut through the somber tone in the air. “Someone has to take care of the dog. Maker knows _you_ don’t.”

Fenris hefted some letters into his arms, dropping them carelessly onto the rug and taking a seat on the floor. “Send it to Carver and go with it, then.” He wasn’t serious, though, and they both knew that. Orana huffed as the warrior squinted at the letters, picking them up and opening them one by one. A steady silence overtook them as Fenris set read letters aside, cursing under his breath every now and then as a word’s meaning was lost on him. He peered up after a while, studying the servant as she was now cheerfully sweeping the floor around him. “That seamstress you mentioned, last time we spoke. Did you get hired?”

Orana tilted her head, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. “I never told you why I was going to see her.”

Fenris paused in his reading, placing a finger under the word he’d stopped on and turning to face her. “I expected you to be with her, and not here.”

Orana’s smile faded. She took a tentative seat next to the other elf, shuffling the papers he’d strewn about together in a neater pile. “I think… Master Hawke will need all the support he can get when he arrives home. I think he has been very kind, and everyone has treated me very well here. You included. Sometimes.” Fenris scoffed at her. “So I’ve decided to wait until he returns to bring up the matter. It may turn out he needs me here, if only to sing him a song or two. I’ve been practicing!”

Another letter from Varric was tossed off to the side, which Orana gathered neatly into it’s envelope and set aside. “He does not plan on returning alive. You should think about it.” He reached for the next letter, glancing towards the woman once more and finding her tugging at the hem of her dress. “I had not meant to upset you-” He started, but quickly furrowed his brow and focused on the letter in his hands.

_Fenris,_  
_I lied to you about knowing Hawke’s whereabouts. I’m sure you knew that by now, but I’m sorry anyways._  
_I had no idea what he was getting himself into but he swore to cut any contact we could keep if he caught wind that you were close to finding him. I couldn’t risk that. I was right not to risk that._  
_Sammy got himself into some shit with the Wardens. It’s a long story I will definitely tell you when I get home._  
What I  will tell you is that he almost died. 

“Kevesh!” The curse left his lips without thought as Fenris got to a stand. Orana made a noise to his side - and easily went ignored.

_Even after all these years, the first thing a demon did to tempt him was use your name. A fear demon, threatening you. He was pretty shaken by it, sunshine. I’m worried about him._  
_Beyond all that, though, he almost stayed in the damned Fade with it. Not that corporeal shit, this was the actual Fade. And he was going to stay in there._  
_I think you need to find him. I think that whatever he’s doing, he’s out of control. I can’t protect him. Don’t do this alone, elf. I brought Corypheus into this world and I will take him out of it. It’ll be easier to find him once I get home, so don’t get yourself killed?_

Fenris stiffened as he read, quickly turning towards the closet to locate his armor. Hawke’s letter to him had been burned into the back of his mind by now and Varric’s confession only made things worse. Hawke had almost died and he had still been thinking of him, still probably felt justified in leaving him here and fuck, he just wanted to tear his mage’s throat out sometimes. “Fenris, are you alright?” Orana’s voice was soft, not wanting to cross a boundary but genuinely worried for the fellow elf. Fenris huffed as he glanced back at the letter the dwarf had sent, crumpling it up and tossing it into the unlit fireplace.

He wanted to go. Needed to go. Fenris grabbed for his gauntlets, latching them on just as quickly as they had come off. He had been there during the battle with Corypheus. He remembered - clearly - the way that Tevinter darkspawn threw everything at the man he loved and his chest heaved just thinking about it. It was disgusting, really, how lovestruck he could be after four years away from the man. Curling his lips into a snarl, Fenris turned out the door. “Don’t expect me.” He paused at the doorway for a moment, lips pursed as if he was going to make another comment.

He left instead. Hawke had told him to move on, and he couldn’t. How pathetic was that?


	4. But If Life Were Made of Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What are chapter breaks and how do you put them into writing  
> Where is Hawke because I'm starting to miss him already
> 
> In all seriousness, thanks for taking the time to read this silly thing! <3 Expect updates about once a week following this chapter.

\------ (9:42 Dragon)

“...Fen…”

Varric’s tone immediately dropped. They’d been having a good time for a bit, talking about how the Inquisition had succeeded (the dwarf having more than one exaggerated tale to tell about his new Dalish friend). Fenris was purposefully trying to avoid conversation about the mage and Varric had found it strange, sure, but not entirely so. It was a touchy subject after five years of the man being gone. To watch him walk through the door and give a woman he’d never a met a kiss on the lips…

The dwarf was still reeling.

She was courteous, at the very least, face flushing with embarrassment when she realized they were not alone. “Oh! Who’s this?”

Fenris glanced quickly at the shellshocked archer before offering an easy smile. “An old friend. Varric. Can you…?”

“Oh, of course. Y-You should have told me that Varric was coming, our plans aren’t that important!”

“It was a surprise.” Varric’s voice was surprisingly even as he glanced at the two. She smiled sheepishly as she turned out the door, and Varric slowly shut it. There was a long minute of silence as the dwarf moved closer, eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the indifferent elf. “Maker’s breath, who is _that_?” Fenris’ lips pulled taut in measured silence. Varric had just about had it with the man already. “Really?” 

More silence. Varric let out a sigh as he pulled a rolled up piece of parchment from his pocket and held it out in front of him. “Hawke sent this letter for you. It’s his location, if you still want it.” Fenris eyed the parchment before snatching it from the dwarf’s hands, guilt overtaking his expression as he read the letter to himself. “I don’t… I don’t blame you for moving on, Fenris.” Varric shifted awkwardly as the elf glanced upwards, eyes shimmering with definite guilt before returning to the paper. “He was in real danger, if it helps any. He still is. I talked him into telling you, but it’s your choice whether or not you want to go.”

Fenris gently rolled up the paper and turned towards the bedroom. Varric unsheathed his crossbow, pressing his fingers along the curvature of the wood as he waited for the warrior to return. “Master Tethras!”

Bright green eyes met his first, and Varric broke into a smile as Orana emerged from the room. “I see you’ve made yourself at home, wide eyes!” It was nice to see the frightened young thing Hawke had taken under his wing become her own person over the years. She wasn’t much different than when he had left a year ago, but he was just so happy to see something that reminded him he was home. “Can you explain this predicament our broody friend has gotten into?”

A nervous laugh left her lips, hands locking in front of her stomach as she bit her bottom lip. “Fenris hasn’t given up, Master Tethras.” She started, moving forward and dropping her tone so as to prevent the elf from overhearing in the other room. “He’s had a lot of trouble accepting that Master Hawke wished him to move on.”

It sounded like bullshit. The dwarf’s eyes softened as he took note of her guarded expression, sheathing Bianca once again behind his back. “I can’t imagine anything of the sort coming out of Sammy’s mouth and neither can you.”

“I hope you’re not implying that Fenris stopped caring. Master Tethras, you know him better than that.” What had previously been a very cautious tone of voice was now chastising. Orana paused to reign in her emotions, bowing slightly. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to sound rude, but it’s unfair to-” 

The young elf was interrupted by the door swinging open, Fenris emerging from the room with sword at the ready and once again wearing the Amell crest at his hip. Varric sighed and motioned towards the door. Fenris narrowed his eyes. He’d heard some of the conversation, he must have, because he looked much more upset than he did guilty. “I waited, Varric.”

“I know.” The archer easily turned away from one elf to face another, smiling brightly at Orana. “Do keep the estate clean while we’re gone, bright eyes. I’ll see you soon.”

Fenris grabbed for the keys of the estate, his eyes downcast as they exited the house and started towards the city port. The servant girl got not so much as a goodbye from him, but she waved farewell to them both anyways. “I waited five years, Varric.”

“I know.”

Tension was still thick in the air. Fenris rolled back his shoulders as they made their way out of Hightown. Silence stretched over and it was heavy with implications. “Do you really expect-”

“Do you love him, Fenris?” The dwarf turned sharp on his heel. For the first time, the elf was taken aback by the defensiveness of the archer’s tone. He nodded. “Still? Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then what in the Maker’s fucking name was that?”

Silence once again settled among the two as Fenris gathered his thoughts. Then, finally, he reached into a pocket and pulled out the paper his lover had given him two years ago. It was tucked neatly behind the Amell crest, wrapped shut with string. “He told me to move on. He told me he was going to die.” His voice broke as the emotion poured through his words: fear, self-loathing, anger. “I searched for him. Leads ran cold. They always have.”

Varric mouthed the words to the letter as he walked, eyes narrowing before he handed back the paper. He watched Fenris roll it up with immense care before pocketing it once again. “As long as you’re coming because you want to see him, it’s fine.” The humor was gone from Varric’s tone. It was… off-putting. “He’s been through too much to have you hate him, too.” 

The two fell into silence again as they left the city. Fenris felt his throat tighten up as he made an attempt to convey his thoughts. “Can I… see it again?” It was all he could muster, but it was enough. Varric shifted before handing out the letter to the elf again, folded and crumpled at the seams. His fingers brushed over the parchment he’d just been given.

_You’re sneaky, do you know that? I was honestly worried you were going to catch up to me for a bit there! You had me corned right up until Weisshaupt, you did, but you got pretty close._  
_I’m still injured pretty bad. Carver had me on strict bedrest for two weeks, the bastard. He wouldn’t let me write or get out of bed or really do anything other than read! Did you know Varric wrote an entire series with characters suspiciously similar to us? Go figure. One of these days I’ll get him back for that._

_I can’t run, so do please be gentle with the revenge beatings. Maker knows I deserve it, but I’m in no state to endure it right now._

The pain that pricked at the back of his eyes were definitely tears. He blinked them away and rolled up that parchment, lip twitching as he realized he had nothing to tie it shut with. He eyed the dwarf from the corner of his eye before unravelling the red ribbon on his wrist. “Weisshaupt?” 

That seemed to have gotten Varric’s attention. The blond quirked a brow as he watched the elf tie a gentle bow around the parchment, stuffing it in his pocket before facing down the gaze of the amused dwarf. “Yep. Something is going to shit up there; word has it the Warden made her way there after her false Calling faded.” It was strange, because Hawke had never wanted to be the hero. There he was, though, in storybooks and amongst other heroes of the realm. Fenris loathed the idea of it. He loathed the idea of fame… but Samandriel was the one actually dealing with it, and Samandriel hated the spotlight just as much as he did. “There’s some tentative word on how hurt he is-” Fenris turned away as Varric paused his story to converse with a ferrywoman. A few silver coins were slipped into her fingers; Fenris ignored the rest of the conversation after that. “.. But!” The exclamation got the elf's attention again. “It's safe to say he's pretty much a waste of space over there.”

“We should take him home.”

Varric eyed the warrior as he motioned to the boat they were to board. “No offense, cupcake, but I doubt he's going to want to stay in that house after you've let other suitors into it.”

“Per _his_ request, dwarf.”

The blond shot his hands up in a defensive gesture, stepping onto the ship. “The point still stands. Whether he asked you to or not, do you really think that he could deal with that sort of thing?” 

Fenris grumbled under his breath as he grabbed onto the edge of the boat. “I don't know.” The elf quickly sized up the ship before clicking his tongue. “She's not very big.”

“I resent that!” A woman emerged from below, immediately winking at her former companions and pointing a finger at the warrior. 

“...Bela?”


	5. Then You Wouldn't Know You Had One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 4am  
> That's it, that's all I have to say, it was 4am when I wrote this

“...Bela?” 

\--

Fenris narrowed his eyes in confusion. “Of course!” Her hand swept through the air to motion to her ship, and the elf glanced to one side before turning his attention back to her. “Varric searched up and down to get my help with this voyage. He's lucky I owe him one - but I'm calling us square after this trip!”

“You let Lavellan have a couple hands of Wicked Grace and _then_ I'll call it even.”

“He can’t be that bad, shorty! Though my experience with elves has always been that they’re terrible with their money.” The woman looked much… happier in this setting. She turned away from them to shout to her crew before sauntering back up to the two and resting a hand on each of their shoulders. “So! Tell me. How is Sammy boy doing? It's been a while since I caught wind of him. Rumor had it he was on his way to Kirkwall right after the big ol’ God guy was killed.”

Fenris glanced between the human and the dwarf with a cautious expression. “I hadn't heard that.”

“Oh! Yes, yes! I remember now.” Isabela slipped her hands from their shoulders and back to her side as she recalled her tale. “Those folk are so strange, I tell you. Anders folk.” Fenris immediately tensed at the name; Bela rolled her eyes as she led them below towards the cabins. “The group of people, not the man. Though it was actually that specific man this time, elfie.”

The response was immediate. “What.” Fenris’ rather relaxed stance immediately stiffened, fingers curling and uncurling as if contemplating an action he wanted to take.

Varric's eyes widened as he turned to look at the warrior. Isabela was once again amused, eyebrow quirking at the motionless male. “Relax! I know. Eternal rivalry for the heart of Hawke and _blah_. I banged him too, sweetie.” 

Fenris' fingers twitched at his side, but he continued walking nonetheless. “Anders and Hawke?” He was trying so hard to be level. Nobody was buying it. “...why..?”

The pirate queen stopped at a doorway, fingers curling around the handle before she opened it and revealed the first space. “I think we should give Varric some space while you and I go over all the details!”

“If this involves Hawke and _Anders_ , belle of the ball, I'm sure you're not going to throw me out of the conversation-”

With an easy shove, the taller companions pushed the dwarf into the room and shut the door.

Fenris looked so down-trodden. His eyes had already begun to do that tortured soul thing again. “They weren't fucking or anything, before you start with the wallowing.” The glare was deserved, but Isabela huffed at him anyways as she opened another door. She began waving her hands dramatically before stepping inside. “At least, they weren't fucking when I got there.”

“Bela.”

The rogue shut the door behind them, taking a seat on the bed and unlacing her boots. Fenris was so tense. She saw it coming, but it was still such a shame. “I'll start with the bad news, okay? Anders is still in love with him. After all these years! Or maybe it rekindled after Hawke dropped everything to help him.” 

Fenris leaned against the door, jaw tightened. “How did you find this out?”

“Carver.” Isabela laid her shoes to the side, stretching her toes out. “Well, _technically_ Varric. But Hawke told Carver, who told Varric, who told me!” She pat the spot next to her on the bed. “Sit down, Fenris. I'll have someone get us a drink in a minute. You need to relax.”

“Just tell me about Hawke.”

Isabela sighed, smoothing the sheets. “You're still lovestruck, too? By Andraste, that ass better be blessed-”

“Hawke, Isabela.”

The raven haired woman pursed her lips, settling her hands in her lap and crossing her legs. “All I know is that Hawke told his brother he was with Anders, that way if something went south, Carver would know who to blame. And… something must have gone south, because Hawke is being treated in Weisshaupt instead of by Anders. He was in critical condition when Carver wrote a letter to our dwarf pal, and he sent one to me. So I took ship to Kirkwall!”

Fenris groaned, but Bela just clicked her tongue. “Hawke is Anders’ friend, too, despite everything.” Her brows furrowed as she turned to face him. “Hawke is my friend, too, or have you forgotten about that?”

“Hawke is mine first and foremost. You are secondary. _Anders_ is secondary.”

The rogue stared incredulously for a moment before huffing and getting to a stand. “You have a woman in your bed and all you talk about is Hawke. He left you, Fenris. It was fucked up and it's been years, yet you still come running at his beck and call. How is he going to learn if he still has you? He'll just do it again.”

It was strange. Fenris had been lamenting about his lover's choices for so long, but having someone else lay them bare made him defensive. “He was hunted by Templars. By Corypheus. He is still on the run, and who knows how long they can keep him at Weisshaupt before he runs again.” The elf shifted, slowly, eyes trained on the rogue as she grabbed for her boots. “He shouldn't be facing this alone.”

“Whatever, lover boy. Let me know when you get your dick back, all this lamenting is a real turn off.”

A hand grabbed for her arm as she passed him to exit. Fenris drew her close, lips inches from her ear and warm breaths sending shivers down her spine. “Nothing you offer me compares to Samandriel. Don't speak ill of him again.”

\---

Isabela was used to rejection, thankfully, because she bounced back the next morning as if she hadn't been borderline threatened by the elf. Fenris awoke to find most of her men - and Varric - gathered around a wooden table that had been fashioned on the decks. He quirked a brow at the rogue. 

“Good morning, sunshine!” She was far too chipper for dawn. The warrior idly wondered if it was a pirate thing; she’d never been a morning person for as long as he knew her. “You sleep okay?”

“Better than to be expected. Boats aren't exactly comfortable.”

Fenris was cautious as he found a seat next to Varric, the two exchanging a look before Bela motioned to the food at the table. “So as I was saying!” The dwarf slammed a hand on the table as Fenris took his seat. “Lavellan looks me dead as the eyes and draws his bow. Right between the eyes he shoots, not even looking at it and says, 'Another one for me! How many have you got, Hawke?’” Bela snorts first, turning her head away from the group. “Sammy swings his arm around the both of us and then points his staff at a handful of terror demons. They just start freeze in a cone of cold that tears them apart and-” Varric pauses to laugh, tearing apart a piece of bread and stuffing it into his mouth. “And Lavellan had hearts in his eyes I tell you. We get thrown into a Maker-damned rift and all he can think about is impressing the Champion!”

The table had a good chuckle at the story, a jovial atmosphere falling over the group as Isabela began to tell some stories of her own. Fenris found comfort in that, managing a few dry comments that put him in better spirits than the night before. 

“Okay! Party’s over, princesses.” Isabela swept her plate to the side, tapping her nails on the table. “Let's clean up and get this table back under, ah? Back to work, boys.” Groans erupted from various members of the crew, but each slowly got to a stand and began lifting the benches. “There’s a long trek ahead of us. Hawke isn’t going to twiddle his thumbs ‘til we get there, you know!”

“Sources say his thumbs are broken. How can you twiddle broken thumbs? That’s hearsay!”

A chorus of groans once again erupted as Varric laughed at his own joke. Isabela heaved a sigh as she turned towards the cabin door, peering inside to check for stragglers before stepping away from the door. “Gonna be a long week.”


	6. We Couldn't Be Happier - Right, Dear?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent like three days trying to write all the fluffstuff between last chapter and this one and realized I should just skip it because bo-ring with a capital B. Then i wrote like 2k words of nothing but exposition so speaking of bORING, ta-daa
> 
> Samandriel is a Spirit Healer, and I've always wondered how much more difficult it must be to be constantly imbuing yourself with the power of a spirit without becoming an abomination. Wynne and Anders are ones, after all, and they're the only other spirit healers we really see. Take that and multiply it by like a billion with all the Fade rifts around and you've got yourself a problem. I've never met a Hawke that wasn't a problem, though, so what else is new?

Carver’s stocky frame was almost intimidating as he stood, arms crossed in front of the door. Almost. Isabela was the first to approach him. “Come on, sweetie. It’ll just be a minute. Fenris came all this way, you know, and he should really get an audience with Sammy boy.”

“My brother is borderline delusional right now.” The younger Hawke raised an eyebrow as he glanced between the human, the elf, and the dwarf. “Seeing all of you is downright dangerous, but _he_ is probably the worst for Sam’s health.”

Fenris snorted, shouldering past the taller man without much effort. Carver swiveled his heel to stop, but the two rogues were quicker in detaining the Grey Warden than many would have thought. “You need to be careful-” The warrior tuned him out after that.

There were hundreds of things Fenris wanted to say, and even more that he expected to say. Standing here, though, was different. A long seafaring trek exhausted him, and dealing with Isabela for an extended period of time exhausted him even more. Getting Carver to step out of the way had been the hardest task yet, though. The younger brother had given them nothing but attitude - he could still hear him arguing with Isabela down the hall as he stepped farther into the room.

“Hawke.” 

The word left his mouth before he could even compose himself, and the elf straightened his shoulders when he saw one hand weakly raise from the bed. If one could even call it a hand, it looked more like a ball of bandages at this point.

“Mmh.” He’d expected something. He’d expected anything. The hand that had raised suddenly clenched, blue sparks of magic emanating before it was brought back under the covers. “Go away, I’m not entertaining this again.” This… wasn’t how Fenris had expected it to go. An immediate reaction of guilt would have been nice. What did he mean by 'again', anyway? 

The elf froze at the doorway, brows furrowed as he attempted to make some sense of the situation. He’d expected healers to have gotten something done. Blood was nothing to so much as scoff at in their line of work, so why was he still bleeding? Fenris took another few steps forward, fingers freezing on the handle of the door when he saw the mage shift in his bed. “Can you give me _one_ day of rest? Just one. Maker’s breath.”

The door swung shut behind them, Fenris feeling his muscles tighten. He wanted to ask questions, but he also wanted to throw something heavy and do quite a lot of things that took the backseat to his confusion. “Is this some sort of joke?”

Blood, bruises, and a face that could have been beautiful if it hadn’t been lacerated suddenly shifted into view as Samandriel forced himself to sit up. “Great, now you’re mocking me, too.” Hawke’s laugh was bitter and quickly followed by a wheeze. Fenris took another step forward instinctively, eyes widening as pale blue light poured from the mage’s hand. “Demons are so pushy these days. Could you at least do a better job of impersonating him? You’ve got plenty to work with up here.” Samandriel groaned as he settled back into bed, eyes squinting shut. “Well? You are the _worst_ Desire to approach me to date.” 

The chuckle that rumbled in the mage’s throat quickly turned into a cough, the blond shifting away from the doorway. He was coughing up blood. The anger that was bubbling to Fenris’ lips shriveled, replaced with worry and panic until all he could even think of was, “what in Thedas did you get yourself into this time?” 

“Oh, you know. There was some demon slaying, some magic, a whole bunch of things I will definitely regret the longer I think on them. The usual!”

Fenris crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed. He was worried. He hated this feeling, and he hated that he was being essentially ignored. Why had he even come? What had possessed him to get on that ship? What had he even expected from someone like Sam? “...Is that all you have to say?”

The same hand raised again, and Fenris watched Samandriel press his palm into his forehead and mumble something under his breath. “I have nothing to say to demons. No.”

It was starting to make a bit more sense. Sort of. Not really. “This is ridiculous. I am not a demon. You owe me an apology at the very least, and I will not coddle your insecurities.”

Samandriel was finally looking at him, really looking at him, and Fenris felt the overwhelming anger once again. “There we go! That’s more like him. You learn fast, don’tcha? You’ll get me next time, buddy.”

That was it. Fenris scowled as he approached, stopping just five feet from the bed and collecting himself. “You knew I was coming, Hawke. Is this really the last thing you want to say to me?”

“The last thing I want to say to him will never be shared with the likes of you. If I had my magic-”

“If?”

The mage quirked a brow. Fenris could imagine what it looked like, but now it seemed almost comical on a face that looked as worn as his. “Please. I’m certain you can tell, or they’d have sent someone better at this.” There was a pause as the two glared each other down, Fenris looking more angry than he had been when he’d walked in and seen how terrible a shape the mage was in. “... Maker, tell me you’re a demon.”

“I am not.”

Red crawled its way onto Sam’s face as he shifted forward, cringing as he attempted to sit back up. He tried once, twice, and finally managed to the third time. “Okay. Can you just… walk out of this room and come back in, and we can pretend none of this happened?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Samandriel sighed, breath catching as it left his throat and forcing another set of coughs. The empathy Fenris had been giving him before was gone. He was livid. “Let me start by saying I am really, really sorry.” He winced as he lifted his arm, magic sparking at his fingertips. Silence stretched over for a few seconds as Sam stared at his hand, teeth tugging at his bottom lip in contemplation. “I… fuck, I don’t know how to fix this. I’m sorry, but…” The blond froze. Fenris was already turning out the door. “Okay, look. I thought I would be gone a year, maybe two, and I thought it would be even considering the shit you put me through, yeah?”

“You are _not_ comparing what I did to this shit show-”

“No, no! Well, yes, but only to justify me being an asshole.” The sheepish grin Samandriel gave was not appreciated, and the mage quickly returned to his solemn state. “It wasn’t supposed to be long. It wasn’t going to be long, but then the rifts started happening and I was starting to lose it.” That finally got the elf’s full attention. “I know what I signed up for with the whole spirit communing thing, I really do, but that was before the fade was brought here. No matter where I tried to hide there were demons, everywhere. D’you know what that’s like?”

Fenris glanced quickly towards the door. “I have an idea.”

“Maker, Fenris. Danarius was an asshole, not a demon. They aren’t the fucking same-” Samandriel broke his thought process with another onslaught of coughing, body convulsing again. Fenris motioned closer, but Sam rose his hand to signal the elf to stop. “I’m fine. Fuck. I’m fine.” He shook his head before continuing. “When Varric told me it was Corypheus, I knew I had to do something.”

“None of that explains why you look like that.”

Hawke pressed his lips into a thin line. “Oh, sure, let me just skip all the important bits and get to this one. Thought you’d want to know more about the whole Anders thing. I expected way more jealous accusations of cheating.” The blond was full of it. This attitude wasn’t entirely new, at least not to him, but it was definitely unwelcome after their time apart.

Fenris snarled. “I care about your _safety_ , Hawke.”

“Oh.” The response was immediate. Samandriel relaxed, tears stinging in the back of his eyes. “I… I mean… Safe? No. I’m definitely not safe. Aside from the demons, there’s the templars who would have me hanged for my magic, there’s the apostates who would have me hanged for treason, Vints who probably have it out for me for killing a magister, Qunari who definitely have it out for me for killing the Arishok and… you know what? I’m fine. I’m fine.” Sam raised his left hand, bringing it up to his right wrist and murmuring under his breath. Blue light once again sparked under his fingertips, to no effect. “Fine. See?”

Whatever Fenris was going to say was cut off by the door opening. Carver’s gaze met with the elf before he turned to his brother. “Sam, you need to go to back to bed.”

A sound left the mage’s lips that sounded almost like a wail; low, broken, and mournful. “I’ve done enough sleeping. Let me out of here.”

“Do you ever say something that doesn’t piss people off? Go. To. Bed.” Carver snorted as he moved towards the injured man, effectively blocking Fenris from having line of sight. “Show’s over, elf. Get out.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes, fingers twitching at his sides. He poised on the balls of his feet to look over the shoulder of the Warden. Carver was quick to move again, forcing the elf to break away from the mage and focus on something else. “What happened here?” He was still frustrated, but right now he just wanted to know what the fuck caused this. Carver’s gaze trained on him, contemplating, before he leaned forward to slowly brush his brother’s hands back under the covers.

“Best guess I have is Anders took his magic to augment his power.” Samandriel offered nothing in response, and Fenris peeked over once again to find the blond passed out already. “Can’t imagine that brother would have trusted him for anything, though, so maybe it was something else.” After a pause, Carver turned to face the fellow warrior. “You should have waited.”

“You should have told me he was being plagued by demons.”

“He’s always plagued by demons, you twat.” The young Hawke rolled his eyes, raising a hand to urge the elf towards the door. Fenris was reluctant to follow, but did so. “Come buy me a pint and we can all talk about it. Varric will probably have better luck than you did. I could use a break. Right, Varric?”

The dwarf jumped as a hand clapped his shoulder. “Don’t scare me like that, kid. I’m getting old.” A nervous chuckle rumbled in his throat. Isabela quickly put her hand on his other shoulder, grinning mischievously. “We’ll watch Hawke. Bela is good at getting answers outta him so we’ll have the story in no time.”

“I’m good at getting a lot of things from Sammy~”

“ _Bela_.”

Fenris’ tone cut her sing-song voice short, lips pulling into a pout. “You are no fun anymore, Fen.” She was already stepping backwards into the doorway. Varric followed suit, pulling Bianca into his arms and taking a seat on a nearby chair. “Bring me back a mug, eh? The shittier the ale the better!”

“I’ll get you shit, all right!” Carver snorted as he turned away from the two, glancing towards the elf as they started in another direction. “You’re brooding an awful lot. How bad could it have been?”

Fenris was silent for a minute, then finally clicked his tongue. “Called me a demon. Half-answered some questions. Was generally incoherent.”

“I mean, those last two parts are par for the course when it comes to Sammy.”

The two exchanged a snort, shaking their heads. Fenris felt the smile quirk at the corners of his mouth, quickly wiped from his face as easily as it had arisen. “He’s unwell and nobody thought to inform me?”

Carver ducked into an alley, pointing in a direction that the elf assumed to be the bar they were going to. The sun still loomed high in the sky, and the light was unbearably bright this time of year. “The short answer is yes, we thought about telling you. I did tell you, remember?” As the two turned back onto a main street, Carver pointed to a building. “Just a little farther.” 

Fenris immediately caught the scent of Tevinter as the door opened. His eyes darted from person to person, finally settling on the image of a ghostly Dalish and a Vint. The two were having a chat and drinking wine in the middle of the day. The Vint seemed to notice him staring, and immediately flagged them down. “What is this?”

“The long answer, shorty. Sit down and put a muzzle on. Maker knows you’re irritable enough without a lover’s quarrel.”

Fenris naturally found his seat next to the other elf and across from Carver, biting his tongue to keep from saying anything. The Vint exchanged words with Carver before looking at him, and if Fenris could kill just by looking at him… “Greetings! My name is Dorian of House Pavus. Pleased to finally make your acquaintance!”

“You spooked him, Dor. You didn’t get too handsy with the Champion, did ya? Varric told me he was the jealous type.” The elf spoke quickly and with an accent he was vaguely familiar with - it reminded him of Merrill, in a way. He hated him already. “Ooh, I don’t think he likes me, either. What’s with elves and hating me, Dor? I’m pretty sure that’s discrimination!”

Fenris groaned. He needed information, not a bunch of clowns. Why was he always stuck with a bunch of clowns? “Does anybody take anything seriously around here?”

“Sure don’t!” The chipper voice of the elf had him slinking in his seat. A week long journey, and for this. He should have stayed home.


End file.
